The World's A Stage
by Fuyumi
Summary: Hermione decides she's no longer going to play the role that she's been meted out.
1. Masks

**The World's A Stage**   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc. 

**Part I: Masks**

You love me. 

I've never heard you speak those words out loud, but I know it's true all the same. Truth is not determined solely by the words we speak nor the deeds we do. Though we've never made any of the promises lovers make nor shared kisses like lovers do, the truth does not change. 

You love me. 

Thinking those words to myself has been my greatest comfort. You hardly ever betray yourself by word or deed. You've never said the words. If asked about your feelings for me, you would say that I'm your best friend. If pressed into admitting your love, you would add that your love for me is like that for a sister. 

Furthermore, you prove your words by the things you do. We've only shared chaste kisses on the cheeks. We've hugged, of course, but only as close friends do. You've supported me through all of my darkest hours—but you've always held something back in reserve. 

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that you are so agile in concealing your feelings. Your upbringing could not have taught you to be open about love. You probably feel like you don't deserve my love. And you've always been the absolute best in the things that you care about doing well in. No, it should be no surprise to me that you play your role all so well. But no matter how vehemently you deny it, no matter how much you restrain what you do, the truth is still there—you love me. 

For while your mask is normally so perfectly in place, there are times that cracks can be seen. In fifth year, when we were studying for our O.W.L.S.—there was one night when we were all so tired. We were the only ones awake. I had my head buried in a book, desperately trying to commit to memory one last spell. It wasn't working. I was so tired that the words were melting together on the page. I looked up, out of sheer frustration. 

That's when I saw it. A single emotion flicker across your face. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. But it still would have been there. The truth would not change from my lack of perception. 

But I'm so glad I didn't miss. It was beautiful. Your love for me was out in plain view for one crystalline second. Your mask dropped and I could see what you felt for me. I could not breathe, I was so relieved. That you felt the same way I do. 

That's still one of my favorite memories. It has kept me company during so many lonely times. Just that one flicker on your face has helped me make it through those dark times that we lived in. No matter what else you say to me, I'll always believe in the truth of that moment. That's my happy memory. 

Then there was that other time, when I was injured. I don't know how long I had been out, but it was long enough that only you were awake. I heard your voice, begging me to wake up, to not leave you behind. Your love infused your voice. Its presence graced the air around us. I think it brought me back. I could not do anything but respond to your love. 

I think you almost said it then. Sometimes I wish I had kept my eyes closed just a minute more. Then it would have been out and between us. Then perhaps you would have stopped pretending and start living. But I couldn't keep my eyes shut any longer. For if you love me, the opposite is just as true. 

I love you. 

It's the truest thing I've ever said. I love you with my heart, my mind, my body, my soul. No matter what we may say during our roles, the truth is unchanged. I love you. 

Finally, there was that awful night last month. My parents had died. I had just been told. I couldn't think. I could hardly grieve. No one else knew what to do. 

And that's when I felt it. You didn't say a word. You didn't do a thing. But I felt the love that echoes between us then and now. It anchored my soul and gave me room to grieve. You loved me and so helped me to live. 

It's so ironic that we can be so in love, yet we've never been together. We've always been just friends. 

Because the roles the world wants us to play have no room for love. You're supposed to be the hero. I'm supposed to be behind you, supporting you most of the way. And I'm supposed to be with our other best friend. The two of us, united in love, always behind you, reminding you of the reason behind your fight. 

It's such a lovely dream, like a fairy tale come true. I've been told by so many people that I'm lucky to have him. And if I loved him that would be true. 

But in the end, all it is only a story. Nothing more and nothing less. A story that people have constructed and that we read our lines for. You can call it a story, you can call it a dream, but in the end, it's all the same thing. It's nothing more and nothing less than a lie. 

Because I don't love him. I love you. And how can I be lucky when I don't have you? What sort of fairy tale is it when the lovers are separated by their very best friend? It's not a dream, it's a nightmare if I can't be with you! Perhaps the world doesn't understand it, perhaps the world doesn't want to understand it, but I _love _you. 

Ever since my parents' death, I've thought about all the things I've done. I've thought about the path my life has taken. And I've thought about what my parents would want for me. 

They would want me to be with you. 

My parents lead me by example. Their role in life was not to have a witch as a daughter. They were perfectly ordinary dentists, leading perfectly ordinary lives. How that letter must have disrupted their world! I can't comprehend it. 

Yet though that letter went against everything they knew as true, they did not hold tight to their world. They could have kept me there, saying it was all a lie. They could have begged me to stay, saying they would miss me all too much. They didn't do anything like that. They let me go. They let me go so I could discover myself. They let me go to become the very best witch that I could be. They let me go so I could be true to my own self. 

I wouldn't be honoring my parents' memory if I continued with this farce. If I went along with what everyone apparently believes and commit myself to my friend whom I do not love. If I hide all I feel behind a mask, push it aside, and leave it to gather dust. If I did any of this, what would my parents' sacrifice have been for? 

It would have been for a lie. And they've always wanted me to be true to my own self. 

So I can't do it anymore. I can't go on reciting the lines that have been written. I can't go on and do the deeds that have been planned. It wouldn't make me happy. It wouldn't make them happy. It wouldn't make you happy. And I love you. 

So I just wanted to let you know that I'm ending this play. I refuse to wear the mask I've been given. And though it may hurt some of the people closest to my heart, it's still the right thing to do. 

Because I would finally be living my life. 

I've only lived the role that was doled out to me so far. I have not lived my life. I have not loved my love. And I don't want to die without knowing how it feels to have your lips on my lips. How it feels to run my hands through your hair. How it feels to finally see those three words hang on air. 

And for so many reasons, I wanted to let you know. You deserve to know just what is it that I plan to do. 

At the end of this year, Harry, I'm not playing anymore.   
  
  
  


**Author's note**—Currently, I have this fic set out for four parts. I should be able to stick to that plan. I don't know when I'll post the next part though—it's the whole internet access thing again. In any case, I would really appreciate it if you would tell me what you think and what comments you might have. Please review.   



	2. End

**The World's A Stage**   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc. 

**Part II: End**   


Irresponsible was the least of the words he would used to describe Hermione's threats. 

As Harry stormed up the stairs to the Head Girl's room, he wondered once again what could have driven Hermione to write that letter. He knew that she had been greatly affected by her parents' death earlier this year. Who wouldn't be? But how could anything have driven her to willfully destroy the picture-perfect life they were supposed to be living? 

His best friends were meant to be together, with all their old arguments forgotten as they came together in love. He was meant to smile favorably upon their relationship and help them weather any storms that might come. In turn, they were to stand with him, presenting a united front against any future threats from the Dark that might come. 

Hermione threatened to destroy that all in that one letter. 

She claimed she loved him and that he loved her. That was true, to some degree. He loved her more than anyone else he had ever met in his life. He loved her so much that sometimes he forgot to breathe when she was in the same room, he almost wept when she left, and he could hardly restrain himself from kissing her senseless when they once again met. 

None of this mattered though. Because he loved her enough to want her happiness above anything else in this world. 

And he knew he could not make her happy. The Death Eaters had killed her parents in order to hurt her and so cause him pain. If it were not for him, her life would have been so much better. 

And he knew that she did not love him. She claimed that she loved him with all her heart in that letter. But how could you love someone who would only lead you to your doom? His parents had loved him too much--and had died for that love. 

He loved her enough not to wish that fate upon her. He would not see her die for an infatuation. That was what her feelings about him _had_ to be--an infatuation and nothing more. 

Because if she felt even a tenth of what he did, there was nothing that could keep him from her side. Because if she did truly love him, he could make her so happy and that was all he wanted. He could keep her safe, if he was always at her side, and that would be a promise that would be broken only by his own death. It would be so easy to love and to live. 

It had to be an infatuation because there was no way that life could be so easy. Not for Harry Potter. 

Hence, he had to stop her, before she made a mistake that she would always regret. She and Ron were meant to be. Everyone knew that--except perhaps for the girl herself. 

He did not even pause to knock on the door when it got in his way. She would know that it was him. She always did. 

Hermione knew the second he had entered the room. 

He was not happy. But then, she had known that he would have taken the letter badly. 

Harry cleared his throat to make sure he had her attention. She looked up at the sound and her heart quailed at the expression on his face. 

"I suppose you want to talk about it." 

"I don't think we have much to talk about." 

"No, we don't. You love me. We both know it's true." 

Harry sighed. She was not going to make this easy. "Hermione, you have it wrong. I don't love . . ." 

"Don't." She held up a hand to stop his words. "I can't make you say the words, but please Harry, have the grace at least not to lie to me. Especially because I'll know the words you say are not true." 

Those words set off the explosion that had been waiting to happen ever since he had read that letter. 

"You know, I once thought that you were the smartest person of my acquaintance. I am seriously doubting this now! How could you write such things Hermione! You don't love me, you love Ron! How can you deny what everyone knows is true?" 

"Just because they say that Ron and I are meant to be does not make it true. The truth is that Ron and I are not well-suited for each other. He forgets about me so often. There are so many times when he doesn't even think of me. And I'm guilty of the same. I don't love him and he doesn't love me. I would just be hurting us both if I continued with the farce. And worse--I'd be hurting you." 

"I didn't think that I've ever given you the impression that I wasn't happy about you and Ron." 

Hermione tore her eyes away from his, unable to meet his glare any longer. "No," she whispered, "Like I said, you never betray yourself by word or deed. But it's still true. You love me." 

Harry knew she wasn't getting the point. She could not do this to them and to the world. He had to make her see the light. Stepping forward, he reached out and took her hands. 

"Even if that was true, it still wouldn't matter. You don't love me. You love some image of me that you have up in your head. But that image is not me. You're in love with an idea, Hermione. It's just an infatuation." 

"I can't make you say the words, but please have enough respect for me not to make such accusations. I'm not some silly, love-struck girl. I've lived through the hardest of times, along side with you. And I know you. I know you better than you yourself, as you still hide behind the roles that we've been given. We've been together for so long. How could I_ not_ know you? And I love you." 

"Please Hermione, I'm trying to stop you from making a terrible mistake. Please please believe me when I say that the bond between us is not one of love. Or at least not the type of love that you are talking about. I don't know what you want me to do but . . ." 

"I thought that I made that clear in my letter" She raised her eyes and moved her head ever so close to him. "You love me. I want you to say it. I want you to shout it to the rest of the world. I want you to stay with me always and never leave. I want us to grow to know each other more and love each other more with each passing day. I want you to put aside your part and for once, do what you want." 

"I can't do that, Hermione. It wouldn't be . . ." 

"Right? It would be the most right thing that you've ever done. What could be wrong about being with the one you love?" 

"It would hurt so many people. It would devastate our best friend. Our perfect world would be over." 

"Our perfect lie would be over. And I hurt so much because I'm not with you. Because I know you're hurting too. So for once in your life Harry, please let it all go. For once, just live." 

He bent his head down, out of sorrow. He could not do that. He could not let the story end. 

"I can't," he whispered. 

He heard her sigh, her lips brushed across his scar. He felt her move, he heard her say a single phrase in his ear. 

"Good bye."   
  


**Author's note: **As always, I would love to know what you think of this piece, so please review. Thanks!   



	3. Stay

**The World's A Stage**   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc. Also, one little part was influenced by JA. 

**Part III: Stay**

Gone. 

That's all I can think of. That's all I've been thinking of. She's gone. Gone away, gone out of my life. And I don't know if I will ever see her again. 

Some lovers count the minutes, hours, and days since they parted. I can't. Because every second has been an eternity without her. I still can't believe that she's so thoroughly not here. 

I thought I had stopped her. I thought I had convinced her. When she told me good-bye, I thought she had come to her senses and decided to let the story live on. I thought the happy ending would come. 

I never thought that she would just walk out of my life. I never thought she would leave everything—including me!—behind. If I had known, I would have done anything and everything to stop her. 

Because I love her. It's the truth. But sometimes, the truth is a terrible, as a wise man once warned me. And this truth would have brought down our whole world because we were not assigned to play the part of lovers. We were just supposed to be the greatest of friends. And we were and still are—so close that we could not help but love. 

I don't know when I first started loving her—I was in the middle of it before I even realized it. But realizing it was both wondrous and terrifying. It was wondrous to know that I could feel so deeply, that I could love so completely—and that love was return in full, with no questions ever asked. 

It was terrifying, absolutely horrifying to know that I would never be able to confess my love. That I would never be able to grace the air with those three words nor would I ever hear those words given unto me by my love. That this truth could never see the light of day because that would end the our happy tale. 

And to be completely honest, it made perfect sense that she should love another. That she and my best friend would find their hearts united, that childish teasing would lead to the deepest of loves. When I first saw them together—and I mean really together—I was so relieved. What was meant to happen had finally happened and all was right with the world. 

Only that wasn't true. All the time she spent with him, she did so because that's what everyone thought she should do. During all that time, she was in love with me. 

And I with her. Even now, I love her. Even now, I feel it, the love that binds us together even though we were never together, even though we're not together—and even though we may never be together. Though my heart breaks at that thought. 

It's absolutely impossible! We were never meant to fall in love. She was also meant for the other. It must have been some sadistic twist of fate that led us to love one another! Somehow, someway, we fell for each other and I still fall today. I remember her eyes, her lips, her hair. I remember her words, her looks, her deeds. And I can't help but fall deeper in love with her. 

All this in spite of the fact that she's gone. Gone out of my world, taking my life with her. Gone. 

And I can't stand it. If she had remained here, by my side though not with me, I could have stood it. Just knowing where she was and that she was safe was enough. I loved her and could not have her, but the thought that she was content brightened my day. The fact that my love was happy was enough for me to live. 

I no longer have that comfort. I don't know where she is. I don't know what she feels. All I know was that she made it plain to me before she left that she was in pain because she couldn't be with me. I told myself it was just an infatuation. I convinced myself that eventually the pain would stop. But now she's gone, I cannot help but face the truth. It was never an infatuation. It was always love. And she loved me so much that she was willing to end the story so that she could be with me. I only wish that I had been that strong. 

It's funny how the life moved along in spite of her being gone. When she left, it only made ripples in the stream. It was a surprise, a shock to most. They had never seen it coming. But once it had happened, that was it. The fairy tale ending everyone was expecting would never come to pass and most everyone was fine with it. 

There was only one who was almost upset at her departure as I was—and that was my best friend. 

Listening to his rants and raves about her varied imperfections was hell. Lending a shoulder for him to cry on as he went on and on about how much he missed her touch was absolute torture. 

How dare he complain about her imperfections so? Sure, she could be annoying—but her little quirks were what made her Hermione. And how dare he moan and groan about how much he missed her touch? At least he had gotten to know what it feels like to kiss her, what it feels like to have her hand in his hair. At least he had gotten the chance to hang those words on air—and have the favor returned. 

I was never that lucky. All I had was my dreams to live on and my hope that she would be happy with him. And now, I don't even have that. 

We had our greatest row over the fact that Hermione left us both. 

One night, I just could not take it anymore. He had gone through his usual routine—he started by enumerating her faults and raving about them one by one. Then, after a pause to gather breath, he switched tracks and started crying over how much he missed her and how much he just wanted to see her one last time. 

That's when I lost it. I ripped into him viciously, accusing him of never having loved. I told him he had no right at all to come crying to me when I had never gotten the chance to hold her as I so often had longed to do. I told him that I didn't want to hear her list of faults from him because I love them all. Because they all were hers and I love her. And I told him that he had no reason to be so heart-broken when it was I who had never gotten the chance to declare my love. 

Silence reigned for a minute and one could feel the anger that was building up in him. 

He tore into me. He told me that at least I was the one that she was sorry to leave behind. He accused me of not doing enough to keep her here, with us, where she always had been. He said I had no right to say he had no reason for his broken heart when I never shed any tears over her being gone. 

We parted ways soon after that and it was months before we spoke again. 

It was him that finally decided to mend our broken friendship. He had come up to me and apologized for the words he had said. He said he was sorry for knowing that I missed her so much more than him while coming to me to wail about her being gone. He said he wanted me to know that he was still my friend and would always be there for me if I ever needed a shoulder to cry on. 

Those words broke something inside of me. I cried, for the first time, since she left me. I had been holding all that pain in, but finally I was able to grieve. And my best friend did everything he could to help me get past my grief. 

It eventually became another thing to regret. Ron was able to accept what Hermione and I had between us. If I had agreed to end the farce when she had asked me, I now know that he would have been able to get over the jealousy and hurt that would follow our confession. So now I regret I didn't have enough faith in my very first friend ever. If I had believed in him, I would have acted—and she would have never left. 

Gone. That thought continues to occupy me, as I sit here in Diagon Alley, watching my ice cream melt as I shift my spoon through it mindlessly. I remember that time I had met her here once—in the summer before our third year, with both her and Ron yelling my name to get my attention. I wish I could see her now. 

But suddenly—it's like the very air around me has changed, has somehow become richer and more vibrant. I can feel my world coming alive and my heart begin to beat. 

She's here. 

I know it, even before she approaches me. She's here. The thought occupies my mind, even as she comes toward me. She's here. I can't think of anything else, though she's hugging me now and whispering into my ear. 

"Hello, handsome. Would you like me to . . ." 

"Stay."   
  
  
  
  


**Author's note: ** Harry might have had trouble with keeping track of time, but I can tell you that it's been about three years since the last part. And it'll be about a year till the next part. I'm speaking of fanfic time, of course. 

A big thank you goes out to everyone's who reviewed the last two chapters—I really appreciate it. I'm also grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read this far. I would really like to know what you think, so please leave a review. Thanks.   



	4. Peace

**The World's A Stage**   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.   
**Author's note:** I hope you enjoy this part and leave me a review to let me know what you think. Thank you. 

**Part IV: Peace**

An indescribable feeling of utmost happiness and delight rises from my bottom of my heart. I can only be glad to be here to day to witness a proclamation of love that has been long delayed. 

My best friends are getting married. To each other. It was not what was expected, but it is right in so many ways. 

But most of all it is right because I have never seen two people so much in love with each other. 

I know that many people would roll their eyes out of sheer annoyance to hear me use such a cliché. That doesn't matter. It doesn't alter the truth. 

And then there are those who wonder how I could stand their relationship. After all, I was supposed to be with Hermione. I should be the one standing with her today, promising to love and cherish her until the last breath leaves my body. By all rights, I should be enraged that my best friend would contrive to harm me by stealing away my girl for good. Or at least, that's what that school of reasoning would have you believe. 

I can't help but wonder if those people are blind or worse. Anyone with eyes can see that Harry and Hermione are just happy with being together. With other couples I've known, their affection became clear by their little acts and deeds—by kisses dropped upon meetings and words extended in assurance. My best friends have no need for such obvious displays. Their love is something that pervades the air around them. You can feel their contentment and it spreads to you. They're delighted just to be together, to be in the same room, to be with each other. While I do not profess to be the world's greatest expert on love, I think that has to mean something. 

Forget this attempt at being subtle. I'll be blunt as usual. That something is that they are in love. And that is all the blessing they need for their actions. That is all the reason I need to stand behind them in support. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about all of this. It doesn't matter that the world thinks that she should be with me instead of him. What matters is that this is right and this is true. After all I have seen throughout the years, there is simply no way that I could not be joyful about what lies between them. 

I wasn't always this accepting. 

I was in denial about the truth of their relationship for years. I think that somewhere I always knew that there was a deeper bond connecting Harry and Hermione than the one connecting her and me. Sometimes they talked in unison. Other times, they acted in unison—everyone knows they had often acted together to prevent me from playing a complete fool. At times, they thought as ones—and I swear that once I saw them breathe as one even before that time. 

That time was awful. Hermione had left us both behind. I felt it so deeply. She had left me. She didn't want to be with me. Although everyone had always told me that we were so perfect together, that they had always known that we belonged together, and that we were best when we were together, she had still left. She had left because she didn't want me and I knew that when I heard the news. She had left because what everyone had thought was not true, but it took some time for me to see this reason for her departure. 

In fact, it took Harry ramming the truth down my throat for me to even admit that it was there. 

I think that I will never be able to forget that fight. I had gotten myself into a bit of a rut. I just could not get over the fact that Hermione had left me. That she had been able to walk out of my life, without looking behind, without even saying good-bye, in spite of all the moments we had shared. So I had taken to alternately raving about her idiocy and crying about her not being there to Harry at regular intervals. Then one day Harry had enough. 

He ripped into my constant complaints viciously. He tore into me for complaining to him about not having her when I had the chance to hold her in my arms while he had never even gotten to admit his love to her face. It was a terrifying thing to see. I hope never to see anyone that angry and desperate. 

That's when I could do nothing but face the truth. Hermione had wanted him, not me. She left us rather than have to do what was expected of her. She would have stayed for him, but not for me. 

Realizing that did not make me happy at all. 

I hate to admit it, but I did not react well at that time. Rather than accepting the truth of his friend and attempt to provide him comfort, as any good friend should, I threw his accusations back at him. I drove the fact that he didn't make her stay and that it was his fault that she was gone into his face time and time again. I mocked his feelings by saying it was clear that he had none for her, as he never shed any tears at all. My best friend had not done enough to keep our other best friend with us—but I drove him away that night. 

I'm still not proud of what I said and did that night. Others may forgive me on the grounds of some sort of emotional distress, but I don't think that suffices. Not when I knew that my best friend was in pain because he wanted to prevent any from being inflicted upon me and yet I did not hesitate to hurt him as much as I possibly could. 

I felt guilty the following day. It took me months to finally wind up the courage to apologize. It took me months to finally act as I should have in the first place. And when I finally did—I could not believe that a grown man could cry so much, could be hurt so much, and yet still remain breathing. 

I hated Hermione at that moment. However, I now know that those years were hard on her too. 

I asked her about that once, about what had she been doing while she was away from us. She looked down and away, before answering. She had been trying to live her life, she had said. She did not add it, but it was clear that she did not think that she had been very successful living without Harry. 

I then asked her what she would have done if Harry had told her no again. Immediately, she tensed up. She clenched her fists. Her face drained of all color and her eyes betrayed the fear she remembered. 

It took her a moment to gather herself. But then she weakly smiled at me and replied. She would have tried again. No matter how much each rejection hurt, she would have kept trying to convince Harry to admit his love. Because anything less was simply no longer an option. 

Knowing as I do now, how much my two friends need each other to be happy, how could I possibly throw any more obstacles in their way? I had done enough already by being blind all those years as to the nature of their true feelings. 

And so, I gave her away. 

Some would see my role in the ceremony as being greatly symbolic. I gave away the love of my life to my best friend who needed her more than I ever could. However, she was never mine to give away. 

Her love was never mine to give away. 

I know they asked me because she had no one else to do the task. I know they asked me because they felt they needed my blessing. I told them upfront that they didn't need it. That they shouldn't wait on my approval before going on with the wedding. 

They both smiled at that. Then, Hermione said that as her father could no longer do the deed, she was hoping that she could convince the man she loved as her brother to do so. Not because she needed that brother's approval or acceptance, but because that's where she wanted him to be. 

Harry picked up where she left off. They didn't want a best man or a maid of honor. To offer me such a position would trivialize me, their very best friend. I would be standing on the outside, to the side of one of them. They would much rather have me behind them then and always, offering my support for all they chose to do that I knew was right. And they would prefer me to be in front of them, stopping them from making mistakes that I knew was wrong. 

After those two heartfelt pleas, I did what anyone with a heart would do and accepted the offer. I gave her away to the man who deserved her because he made her happy. I'm willing with all my heart that they can feel the bastion of support that I'm providing for that which they are solemnizing today. I'm hoping with every fiber of my being that they know I want nothing for them to go wrong as they have already been through enough trials and sorrows. 

Most of all, I want them to know that I agree with what is being said now with all of my soul. 

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."   



End file.
